


Sometimes

by Efhue



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, WHY WOULD I DO THIS, gonna not write thats what im gonna do, no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3412097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efhue/pseuds/Efhue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its angst<br/>Just angst and no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

Sometimes, when I allow myself, I dream about him. Jean, with his stupid condescending walk, his long legs scissoring with purpose as he moves closer. His hands are pale; paler than usual; almost paper white. Its clenched in a fist, indelicate and rough, and I know how his hands feel. I don't want them to throw a punch at me anymore, I just want to hold them. Kiss away the cuts and bruises because Jean. Jean is not me. His skin heals slower, he is temporary. _Fleeting_.

I've got hands that aren't mine.I've got a body that isn't mine. My eyes, my mother's eyes, they aren't mine. One leg. Not mine. Not his. Not anyone's. Just barely there, steaming like a bitter brewing of coffee.

_ Black, no sugar.  _

The way he likes it. Bitter and hot.

Different. Angry. _Present_. 

They're words I'd use to describe him. 

_Selfish_.

A word he'd use to describe himself. 

I open my eyes. I lack them. So let me rephrase. My eyelids flutter open. I can feel him, somewhere to the right. Forehead on my hand, tightly gripped in his like a letter lost and found. 

Words. 

There's no need to talk. 

He does.

"Suicidal Bastard." He rasps. Voice tired. Back slouched. Not a soldier. Just a boy with hands. Indelicate and rough. Cuts and bruises. 

Its an ordeal. I lift them, painstakingly. It doesn't happen. I breathe deep. Saccharine scent. 

_Kornblümen_.

New vigour. Head first. Shoulders next. My body is screaming. Silently, in refusal. 

He's screaming. a choked voice. I can't hear him; I ignore. I bend. Lean. New muscles. _Screaming in protest._ I let my lips brush over his hands.

Indelicate and rough. Success. I bend back, and fall onto the sheets. Jeez, when was love such a pain in the ass ? Oh right. When I met him.

Jean. Fleeting and Temporary. Selfish. 

Jean. The only thing that's _mine_. 

My eyelids flutter shut. 

And sometimes.

Sometimes I dream about Jean. 

To _cope_.


End file.
